When Silence Dies
by Kuromei Aibyouka
Summary: Hermione decides that Harry is the true enemy and joins the Deatheaters. Rewrite.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a rewrite of mclovindramione's work, R is for Revenge.**

**I know it's rare, but basically that's what everyone else it doing, rewriting the stories they love and posting them on this site.**

**I am declaring myself a fan of mclovindramione. I don't own anything, as the plot is hers.**

**I adored the story, but I wanted to make a few tweaks. So here we are. This is set after seventh year as if Harry never went against Voldemort.**

* * *

Hermione made her way up the pathway to her house with the paper bags full of groceries carefully tucked in her arms. She was cooking dinner with her mum and dad tonight, as they were having Harry and Ron over for dinner for the first time.

With the war, she felt she barely had time to spend with her parents, but she made sure that every once in a while she would cram them into her schedule to keep them from thinking something was wrong. They didn't know there was a large chance that one day she would walk out of their house and never come back.

But now wasn't the time to worry. It was time to relax, if only for an hour or so. She stepped up onto the porch and pushed the door open with her bum, as for some reason the door hadn't been latched. Once inside she kicked the door shut and carried the groceries toward the kitchen.

As she approached, she could hear a quiet shuffling. She smiled, thinking of her mother dancing around the kitchen with her father when she was a little girl as she cooked dinner.

But when she came into the doorway, she realized that her mother was not, in fact, dancing.

The paper bags crashed to the floor, scattering vegetables and other foods that Hermione had chosen with great care. The food was the last thing she could care about now.

Harry sat crouched on the kitchen floor, sweat soaking his hair and T-shirt and his wand clutched tightly in his hand. She immediately noted something under him. Or really, someone. Two someones.

Her mother, wavy brown hair splayed about behind her head, face frozen in a shocked expression.

Her father, not two feet away, slumped a little less gracefully than her mother but just as horrifying.

"H-Harry?"

Harry's head jerked up, his wand immediately trained on her.

Hermione didn't respond. Her eyes were on her parents.

"Ron!" Harry cried, scrambling to his feet. "I told you to keep her out of here! Get her away from here!"

She was vaguely aware of Ron's burly arms wrapping around her shoulders, attempting to lead her away, but his touch made it worse.

She abruptly jerked away from him, sidestepping his attempt to grab her again as she dove forward, kneeling beside her mother.

There was broken glass around her, digging into her hands and knees, but the pain didn't register. She reached out, gently touching her mother's hand.

"Mum," she whimpered. "Daddy…"

They didn't stir. They didn't answer.

They didn't breath. They were dead.

Dead.

Harry and Ron managed to seize her by the arms then and she struggled, knowing exactly who had done this, who had killed them.

Harry killed them. Murdered them.

Murderer!

"Murderer!" She screamed at Harry, eyes stinging with disbelieving tears.

He cringed, his grip loosening just enough for her to wiggle out of his grip. Ron held her fast, though, preventing her from escaping.

She didn't care. As long as Harry wasn't touching her. She sobbed freely now, her whole frame shaking with the force of her grief. She couldn't breathe.

She gasped heavily, trying to comprehend everything, but it was just… it was too much…

The room spun nauseatingly, and the last thing she heard before she blacked out was her parents' murderer calling her name in a panic.

…

Pain.

That was her first thought. Her eyes and throat burned. Her head ached, so much…

Reflexively her hand came to the source of it, her left temple, where her fingers encountered a throbbing lump.

She'd hit her head, apparently.

Odd, she thought dazedly. She didn't remember doing that. Speaking of, what happened? What _did _she remember?

She recalled walking home from the store, eager to get home to start cooking dinner. She remembered getting home, and-

She sat up so quickly she nearly passed out again, her eyes snapping open as she barely managed to stay conscious. She almost didn't care that she was in the Weasley's house. Her parents. Mum and dad…

She wasn't alone.

_Harry._

"'Mione," came his apologetic voice. She snapped her head towards his corner where he stood with Ron, eyes flashing fire. He grimaced and rubbed his scar uncomfortably.

Hermione didn't let him finish. "Get out," she whispered. Her voice was so raw that she couldn't scream it the way she wanted to. "Get the fuck out, both of you."

Instead of leaving, Harry took two steps forward, holding his hands up. "'Mione, we have to talk about this."

Hermione leapt out of the bed, sprinting toward the door. If he wasn't leaving, then she was.

Ron was faster. He blocked her exit with his body, holding his hands up as well. Harry came closer.

"No!" She croaked, throwing herself away from him, straight into Ron. "Get away from me, I hate you! You murderer!"

Harry's face crumpled with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I had to, 'Mione, they were possessed."

"I don't care! You promised me you wouldn't hurt them, and you lied! I trusted you!" She shifted in Ron's arms, further away from Harry.

"Hermione, please."

"No. You know what I think, Harry?" she spat. "You're the boy who lived because you kill everyone who poses a threat."

Harry reacted to her harsh words as if she had slapped him. "You don't mean it. You're hurt, and I'm sorry. You don't mean it."

"But I do."

Harry lifted his bewildered eyes to Ron for help. Ron rubbed her back, attempting to soothe her, and shrugged toward Harry.

"Maybe we should leave her alone for a while," Harry finally suggested.

Ron nodded. "Perhaps that would be best." He released Hermione. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to let us know, okay, Hermione?"

"Just go."

She didn't wait for them to leave before climbing back into bed. The door shut, and only then did she allow the tears to break free, streaming down her face heavily.

She fell asleep this way, crying for her parents.

…

_This place was strange. She had never dreamt about it before, and surely she'd never been here before. It was dark and cold, but her dream-self stalked forward into the dungeon without a second thought, coming to kneel before a dark figure. The figure chuckled darkly, the voice commanding and evil. _

_"__Have you found any news on their whereabouts?" he murmured._

_She looked up. "No, my lord, but I will. I swear it."_

_The being took a step forward, looming closer. "I adore your persistence and determination. What drives this, might I ask?"_

_Her eyes flashed, an image of Harry crouched over her parents in her mind's eye. "_Hatred."

_Voldemort tilted his head into the dim candlelight, revealing his snake-like features. He smirked. "My favorite answer. You will make the world proud."_

_She grinned wickedly. "That's what I plan on."_

Hermione jolted awake, sweat glistening on her brow, breathing heavily. She had just dreamt of something she promised herself she would never consider, and she had loved it.

One word stuck with her, one she had spoken in the dream: Hatred.

And the memory of Harry's cruel deed filled her with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Harry Potter or the plot. This story is a rewrite of mclovindramione's work, R is for Revenge.**

* * *

When she woke up, she hoped a shower would help calm her, or at least release some of the tension in her body.

It didn't work as well as she hoped.

The water felt like tears running down her body, and she ended up sobbing and running out of the bathroom, nearly slipping in her hurry. She didn't bother dressing herself; she just rushed forward, grabbing her wand.

With a muttered curse, she ran the tip of the wood down her arm, drawing a line of blood down her inner forearm. The pain helped her come back to reality, helped her focus.

She smiled and exhaled.

Then, for no reason at all, she started laughing, not caring that the sound was hysterical and insane.

All she cared about now was getting revenge.

She stood up quickly, smearing the blood on her arm and strutted over to her wardrobe, dressing in all black. She checked her reflection in the mirror feeling different.

No. Feeling better.

She didn't listen to Molly as she tried to persuade Hermione to stay. She didn't care when Ginny gripped her arm, she just shook the redhead off.

Harry and Ron were smart enough to not try to stop her.

Hermione left the Weasley's house without saying a word of farewell. She cared for none of them now. She just needed to focus on her next task: finding her new lord.

She giggled madly at the thought.

_It can't be too hard._

_…_

Unfortunately, after a few days, she began to realize that this wasn't true.

She had found no trace of the Dark Lord or any of his Deatheaters.

After the first day, she found herself wandering around muggle cities and towns. She didn't know why; it was much less likely that they would be there. Call her crazy, but she had a hunch.

But outside a bar, she suddenly wished she hadn't.

A man, about Ron's size, grabbed her by the wrist as she wandered by, pulling her up to him.

"Hey, baby," he slurred. His breath reeked of alcohol.

"Let go of me this instant!" she snarled, yanking at her arm. He didn't let go, he just laughed. He was much stronger than her, even drunk.

"Not before you gimme some sugar." And he roughly shoved his mouth against Hermione's.

She bit him.

He howled, immediately releasing her and she took off down the alleyway. After a few moments the man recovered and he began calling for her. A few of his friends joined in, laughing and making disgusting comments.

Her anger peaked, and she found she was no longer afraid of them. She didn't care about laws anymore.

She stepped out of the shadows. "Ahem."

"Oh," the drunk said happily. "You had us worried, darlin'."

Hermione's lip twitched. "Did I now?"

He nodded eagerly. "Now why don't you come over here an'-"

"_Crucio_!"

The forbidden spell shot out of Hermione's wand, striking the man in the chest. For a millisecond, his eyes widened in fear before he crumpled, begging for her to stop. His friends gasped and ran off as fast as their feet could carry them.

Hermione sneered down at him, cutting the curse. "You must cause a lot of women pain," she mused calmly. He gasped for breath, his seizure stopped for the moment.

"P-please…" he sobbed into the ground.

She applied the curse, more forcefully this time, and he screamed his voice raw. When she released him again, her tried once more.

"S-s-stop," he stuttered, teeth chattering from shock.

She looked at him uncaringly. "What did you say? More?"

He began to cry again, praying for mercy. She smirked, but finally lowered her wand and walked away, feeling powerful.

And maybe less powerful when an arm grabbed her, pulling her back into the shadows. She mentally slapped herself. It was probably one of the guy's friends. She should have made sure they weren't around anymore.

This theory was disproved, however, when she saw a wand in her peripheral vision a second before she was stunned with a quick _petruficus totallus._

Her world faded to black.

…

She woke up in a dungeon that was terrifyingly similar to the one in her dream, and her arms and legs were chained.

Her eyes snapped open and she yanked on the restraining metal.

"Don't waste your time," a voice drawled lazily from the shadows.

"Who's there?" she snapped back.

To answer her question, the person lit the torches in the room, revealing that she was surrounded by Deatheaters. She didn't cower. She scoffed, unafraid.

Voldemort stepped forward, and she immediately bowed. This seemed to surprise him and his steps slowed, then he moved forward again and grabbed her by the face, lifting it up.

"How nice of you to bow." Then he kicked her. It was much weaker than he was fully capable of, but it was enough to knock her backwards a bit. She didn't flinch or cry out when her shoulder struck the floor.

"Interesting," Voldemort chuckled. "You don't feel pain?"

Hermione shook her head.

"You may not show your pain, but you enjoy someone else's."

She didn't answer, but the memory of the man in the alley made a smile curve at her lips.

"Tsk, tsk. A member of the loving Golden Trio, using an unforgivable…" he almost scolded.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "He deserved it. They all do."

Voldemort smirked. "It takes great power to use and unforgivable curse. What gives you this power?"

"Hatred." Her eyes flashed.

The Dark Lord tilted his head to the side mockingly. "And what brought out this hatred?"

She glowered, baring her teeth. "Harry. Potter."

"Why?" he growled.

She met his cruel gaze with one of her own. "He murdered my parents."

"And why are you here?"

"I was hoping to find you," she admitted.

He raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"They call him the boy who lived," she stated. "I'd like him to be called the boy who died."


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own anything, not the plot or the characters.**

**Leave a review and there will be lots o dramione lovin in the future ;)**

* * *

Voldemort's cold laughter filled the room, pleased with the girl's answer.

"So, you wish to join us?"

She didn't hesitate before nodding. "They need to pay for the lies they have told."

"Why should I let you?" he sneered.

"I'm the brains of the 'Golden Trio'. They are nothing without me. I know them better than any of your people do."

Voldemort nodded, thinking it over as he took a step back. Hermione smiled to herself. She knew he wouldn't be able to refuse or kill her.

As she suspected, he eventually turned to the closest Deatheater. "Lucius," he hissed.

The Deatheater, Lucius Malfoy, snapped to attention. "Yes, my lord?"

"She's to stay with you until further notice."

The mask he wore covered his face, but Hermione could guess his jaw dropped. "But… How do you know we can trust her? She's Potter's mudblood!"

Voldemort waved his wand, driving Lucius to his knees. "Do you think I'm a fool? When they brought her in, I gave her veritaserum. As for her blood status," he drawled boredly. "Forget it. Treat her as if she were pureblood."

Lucius carefully regained his feet. "Of course, my lord. Forgive my insolence." Malfoy Sr. then turned, facing another of the Deatheaters in the circle.

Hermione didn't pay attention to him then, as Voldemort approached her once more. "Give me your arm," he commanded. She offered it to him without a word.

He moved his wand in complicated arcs over her forearm before pressing the wood into her skin. The worst pain of her life stabbed into her, and for a moment all she could do was scream.

It was over in over a second. Looking down, she was greeted with the view of the Dark Mark. Her Dark Mark. Voldemort then handed Hermione her wand. She accepted it gratefully.

"Draco," Lucius muttered. The Deatheater he was facing stepped forward. "Bring her home."

"Wait!"

Everyone in the room, except Hermione, flinched at the Dark Lord's powerful voice.

As they watched, Voldemort snapped his fingers and two other Deatheaters entered the room, carrying a gagged and blindfolded wizard.

"Now, my newest follower," Voldemort purred at the word _follower._ "Kill this swine, and your initiation will be complete."

When Hermione looked at the person again, they had taken off the gag and blindfold, allowing her to see his face.

It was Neville Longbottom. His black hair was messy and uncombed, his long, uncoordinated limbs thrashing around him in a hopeless attempt to escape.

"Hermione?" he gasped, looking her up and down.

Before she could reply, his eyes landed on the Dark Mark on her forearm.

"Traitor!" he cried, struggling harder.

_"__Avada Kedavra," _Hermione said, eerily calm. The green light shot out of her wand in an instant, hitting Neville straight in the chest. He slumped, eyes going blank. "Get rid of him."

When the Deatheaters hesitated, Voldemort took matters into his own hands. "You heard her. Dispose of him!"

At his command the two holding Neville cringed and nodded, dragging him out the way they had come in.

"Excellent," Voldemort congratulated. "You are one of us."

Draco stepped forward again and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, preparing for side-along apparition. He was taller than she remembered him being, about three inches taller than her.

"You got taller, Malfoy," she said, sounding almost surprised.

"Shut up, Granger."

She didn't get as angry as she usually would have. In fact, she just smiled, and he apparated them to Malfoy Manor.

They landed in what she suspected was the guest room she'd be staying in. It was larger than any room she'd ever stayed in, and silver all over. Silver walls, silver comforter on the bed, silver sheets, silver vanity, silver wardrobe.

"This is your room," Draco informed her, confirming her previous thought. "Dinner is in an hour. I'll come get you."

Hermione nodded, admiring the queen-sized bed. "Thank you."

He was surprised by her comment, she was sure, but he didn't say another word and walked out the door, shutting it behind him.

Feeling slightly like her younger self, she ran over to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. As she suspected, it was filled to the brim with a rainbow of fabrics. She had no doubt that everything in there would fit her.

She sighed happily, going over to the bed and flopping down on it. She could get used to this. It was amazing. Better than her life ever could have been with her old… _friends._

…

She dressed in a simple black dress for dinner and went through every perfume on her vanity until she decided she liked the one called _Simply Ravishing._

She'd never felt better in her own skin.

As promised, Draco arrived at five o'clock to fetch her wearing a black dress shirt and pants.

And now that he wasn't wearing his mask, she finally got a good look at his face.

He was undeniably good-looking with his silvery blonde hair and storm cloud eyes; that much was obvious. As she noted before, he had gotten taller. His seeker's body wasn't bad, either. He was well muscled and yet lean. Not really buff, but not quite skinny.

"Ready?" he asked, more polite than she ever would have expected from him.

With a half-smile, she nodded and followed him out the door.

"You don't have to escort me," she murmured.

He stopped and turned to face her. He grinned evilly. "Oh, really?"

And with a crack, he disappeared.

Hermione groaned and looked around frantically. "Come on, Malfoy, this isn't funny!"

He didn't appear.

With a sigh, she gave up. "Okay, okay, I need you to escort me. I can't find my way on my own."

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed on her shoulder.

She did, however, lose her balance, managing to knock over not only herself but Draco as well.

"Ouch!" Draco complained when she landed on him, her head thunking against his collarbone. "Damn it, Granger! Watch it!"

"Serves you right," she pouted, rolling off him.

"Ahem." Hermione and Draco's eyes jerked over the stairs where Lucius stood, looking amused. "You two realize that dinner is ready?"

"Yea, yea," Draco grumbled, cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

Lucius shook his head slightly as the pair glared at each other. Hermione went as far as to stick out her tongue at him.

"I'm so glad you two are getting along so _well_," Lucius said sarcastically.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four! Hoo haw!**

**I don't own anything.**

* * *

The days seemed to go on forever. Well, for Hermione, at least. She was the one with absolutely nothing to do. Admittedly she was beginning to get antsy. The Malfoy house was far too quiet and empty for her tastes. She wished Voldemort would give her a task soon.

She began going out into the garden every day to pass the time, with the summer weather being so lovely. It was comfortable in her sleeveless sun dresses in her wardrobe that she had taken to wearing.

It was no use trying to have conversation with anyone but herself. The house elves were quiet and always terrified, and though she'd liked to think she'd shut off her emotions, it bothered her. Not only that, but they never allowed her to go into parts of the Manor, like the kitchen, the ballroom, and Lucius and Narcissa's wing.

Draco's, surprisingly, wasn't off limits, though she didn't usually wander there. She didn't care for being bullied by the boy (was he a man now? Well, they were both eighteen and legally adults…) she was living with. Not that his comments upset her. She was used to him by now, but that didn't mean she would actively seek it out.

She couldn't deny, though, she had never lived better than she was now.

Her bed was absolutely lavish; even her stays in grand hotel rooms couldn't compare to the softness of her new mattress. The wardrobe, as she had noted before, was filled to the brim with beautiful clothing she had never dreamed she'd be able to wear. Gem encrusted dresses, flowing skirts, flirtatious yet refined blouses…

Oh, but the bathroom…

It was her favorite part. The soaps and shampoos were a major part of it. Every time she took a shower or bath, she'd emerge from the bathroom hours later feeling like a goddess. The new soft state her skin and hair had taken was heavenly.

Bathroom aside, she was getting quite bored.

To put it lightly.

After a couple weeks, she ended up burning one of the rose bushes.

Thankfully, that was what got Draco's attention. He was confused, but he could tell something was wrong when he saw the smoke coming from the garden. He saw the burnt roses before he saw her, pacing angrily from one end of the garden to the other in her green summer dress.

It was strange. Had she always been that pretty? Draco thought not. Her hair hadn't always been that tame, her skin hadn't always carried that gentle scent of jasmine, and he hadn't seen her wander around barefoot.

Now that he noticed, it made her legs look longer.

He shook himself. He was getting sidetracked. "Granger," he asked calmly. "Why the hell did you decide to burn the garden?"

She looked up at him, heaving an exasperated sigh of irritation. "It was just the one rose bush. And frankly, it's because I'm bored."

Draco fought back a snort. "Okay, well, what do you propose I do about it?"

"I need something to read!" she groaned, her pacing coming to a slow halt.

"Shoulda thought as much," he mumbled. Bloody bookworm Granger. "Follow me, then." He turned in place and headed back toward the house.

She fell into step beside him, watching him with unabashed curiosity. He almost smiled.

Draco eventually led her right into his personal library. He never let anyone in here. Not his mother, not his father, and especially not any of his friends!

But somehow… Somehow, she was different. He liked to think it was because of how big of a bookworm she was and he could count on her not to mess any of his volumes up.

"Go ahead, Granger," he encouraged. "Take your pick."

She glanced around in shock. He smirked. He knew she never would have expected this from him. Honestly, he didn't expect it from himself.

"Wow," she finally got out. "This is… it's amazing. I didn't know this was here."

"This is my personal library," he admitted. "Don't mess with anything too much. You… you can come here whenever you like."

Her eyes jerked up to his, amber meeting stormy gray.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Draco left quickly.

…

Lucius glowered on his way to his office. All he wanted right now was a bottle of whiskey and a few hours of alone time after being forced to deal with some of the most incompetent people in the ministry.

His plan for his evening was completely forgotten, however, when he opened the door to his office to reveal the Dark Lord in all his evil glory.

"M-my lord!" he stuttered, mentally slapping himself. "What brings you here?"

"I'm here on business," Voldemort replied coolly. "Sit down, Lucius. I have a matter of great importance that I wish to discuss with you."

Lucius obeyed, sitting in the nearest chair.

"Now, about the girl."

"Miss Granger?" Lucius perked up, curious. "What of her? Do you have a task for her or do you wish me to dispose of her?"

Voldemort grinned. The sight sent chills down Lucius' spine. "I have a task, of sorts, for her. And for Draco."

Lucius nodded, waiting.

"Tell me, does Draco have a love interest or someone he is betrothed to?"

His question obviously confused Lucius, but he answered as quickly as he could. "For a while he and Pansy Parkinson were a couple. I admit, I'm glad he ended it."

The Dark Lord's grin widened. "I have an idea," he declared. "You of course know of Miss Granger's incredible mind. I'm told your son is the same way. Not only that, but he has powerful blood. Should they produce offspring together… I believe that it would be most beneficial to our side. Your thoughts?"

"She's a mudblood!" Lucius protested.

"She's clever. I may not like her blood status, but her intellect is something I cannot ignore. Come now, Lucius," Voldemort scoffed. "Surely you can see her potential."

The blonde man sat back in his chair, considering. His lord definitely had a point. If his son courted and married her, they would have powerful children. They wouldn't be pureblooded, but if his lord wished to have them then Lucius had no reason to argue. Not to mention that the thought of being the grandfather of the Dark Lord's most prized possession would have its perks.

"I think it's a good idea," he finally agreed.

Voldemort nodded. "Excellent. I'll leave you to tell Draco. I expect them to be married within a couple of weeks." Then with a crack, he disapparated.

Feeling a bit dazed, he summoned a house elf. "Sipsy!"

The little elf instantly appeared. "Master called."

"Fetch Draco. Immediately."

She nodded and disappeared.

A few minutes later, Draco strolled into his father's office at a lazy pace. "Yes, father?" He took a seat across from him.

"The Dark Lord has a task for you, Draco."

Draco sat up straighter. "What is it?"

"What do you think of the Granger girl?" Lucius asked, hoping for the best.

Draco shrugged. "She mostly keeps to herself. She's alright, I guess. All she really does is read."

"I don't know how else to put this, Draco," Lucius sighed. "The Dark Lord wishes you to marry her."

Draco leapt up from his seat, knocking the chair backward with a _crash._ "What!?"

"Sit!" Lucius ordered. With a huff of agitation Draco picked up his chair, placing it right side up and sitting down. "Her intellect is unmatched, Draco. He wants that meshed with our powerful blood. Think carefully, son. The Dark Lord has chosen _you _specifically."

Draco rubbed a hand over his eyes, considering. He really didn't have a choice, did he? "I'll do it," he allowed.

"Good. Tell her tomorrow. You're excused."


	5. Chapter 5

**A big thank you to my reviewers and those who have favorited and are following. You guys make my day!**

**I own diddly squat. Not Harry Potter or the plot.**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Draco walked back to his room in a bit of a daze. Okay, so not only was he getting married, but he was getting married to a mudblood that the Dark Lord himself had ordered him to.

Strangely enough, he was most afraid of her reaction when he told her.

Back in school, he sort of felt like he knew her. He could tell when she was happy, sad, angry, plotting, or murderous based on her simple movements. Her twitches, in particular, were the most helpful. He knew that when her fingers were twitching, she was feeling particularly murderous. If her eyebrows or lips quivered, she was sad or upset. If her eyes were darting about, he could tell she was plotting something, so he was never really surprised when something big happened at Hogwarts.

Like the Yule Ball.

He shut his eyes and told himself _not_ to go there.

But anyway, he felt like whatever Harry had done to her parents must have been bad. He felt like he couldn't read her anymore, like she had closed herself off. Originally this hadn't bothered him, as he didn't care for her much and didn't see why he would need to read her. They only reason he could before was because he'd spent so many hours analyzing her when he picked on her.

He would likely never admit it, but he worried.

Not only about what her reaction would be. He knew from experience that she could be magically and physically violent.

But also for her. He had no idea what this news was going to do to her.

These past few weeks he'd been sort of trying to make her feel comfortable. Their marriage announcement could destroy his endeavors.

Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn't want that. True, he wasn't overjoyed at the prospect of marrying Granger, but he didn't want her to be uncomfortable or unhappy. His wife, or any Malfoy wife for that matter, didn't deserve that.

He made a split second decision and instead of going the rest of the way to his room, made his way to her room. As it was getting late, that was where she would most likely be, and he decided it might be better to get it over with now instead of later.

He approached the silver door hesitantly, raising his hand slowly. After a beat he knocked on the door twice, waiting for her reply. When he received none, he knocked again.

Still no answer.

Well, bugger, he thought. Where else would she be?

He nearly smacked himself. Duh! He should have known she'd still be in the library.

With a grumble, he went back the way he came, now moving toward the library. It wasn't too far from her room, he noted. If she wanted, she could just take the books to her room.

Well, he did kind of tell her not to mess with anything. Maybe she thought that included borrowing.

Draco would just have to tell her otherwise.

He opened the door to the library and poked his head inside. "Granger?"

She didn't answer. Was she not here, either? With a muttered curse, he stepped inside and wandered a few rows forward.

A huff of breath caught his attention and he turned slightly to the left. Sure enough, there she was, asleep in his chair by the fireplace with a book still open on her lap.

Draco froze and deliberated for a moment. He could wake her, but she could be grouchy. He didn't want to deal with that right now. He could leave her here, but for some reason that option didn't seem too appealing. She would wake up in the morning and be grouchy.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was one other option.

Carefully so not to wake her, Draco crept forward and slid his arms under her limp form and lifted her from the chair. She muttered in her sleep, snuggling against him.

Blushing slightly, he carried her to her room and tucked her under the covers on her bed.

"You're crazy, Granger," he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear.

Then he left.

…

Hermione woke up sometime in late morning, her brow crinkling in confusion immediately when she felt her silken pillow under her head and her covers tucked around her. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the library. How had she gotten back to her room?

A house elf suddenly popped into her room, holding a tray that was too big for her. Hermione jumped at the sound.

"Good morning, miss! Sipsy has brought you breakfast!" the elf declared proudly.

"Um, thank you," she muttered lamely. "Sipsy, how did I end up in my room?"

The elf's eyes twinkled. "Oh, Master Draco carried you, miss! Sipsy saw with her own eyes!"

"What?" Hermione mumbled. Draco had carried her? Why? "Thank you, Sipsy, you are excused." She knew now to dismiss the elves, or they would stand there forever waiting for her next command.

The elf disappeared with a crack, and Hermione climbed out of bed to change her clothes.

She picked a lovely flowered yellow sundress today, confusion about Draco swirling in her mind. She grabbed a half piece of toast before dashing out the door to question him about it.

She found him in the dining room, along with Lucius and Narcissa. Narcissa jumped up when Hermione entered, seemingly overjoyed to see her unwanted houseguest.

"Hermione, dear! You look lovely today!" she gushed. Draco rolled his eyes, causing his father to glare at him over the table.

"Th-thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione stuttered, unused to compliments.

"You're welcome, dear! And please, call me Narcissa. After all, you're practically family now."

"Mother," Draco cut in, gritting his teeth.

"Narcissa," Lucius said calmly. "Let's let them speak in peace, hmm?" He got up, taking his wife's hand.

"Alright," she said reluctantly. "I'll discuss the details with you later."

And the two older Malfoys left the room. Hermione whirled on Draco.

"What was that about?" she demanded.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "You might want to sit down, Granger."

She frowned, but did as he said, flopping into the chair next to him.

"The Dark Lord has a task for us," he began.

"Us? Both of us?"

Draco nodded. "He would like your intelligence and my powerful blood to mix. He wants a… child to have your qualities and mine."

Hermione, being the bright witch she was, caught on instantly. "He wants us to-"

"Get married, yes."

For several seconds, Hermione could only lean back in her chair, shocked speechless.

Could have been worse, she told herself. It could have been much worse.

"Alright," she agreed finally. Draco arched an eyebrow at her.

"Do you… do you think that we, you know, this, could work?" he asked, somewhat timidly.

"I will do whatever the Dark Lord asks," she declared.

Draco shook his head. "No, I mean our marriage. Do you think we'll be happy?"

Hermione didn't answer for a few more moments. "I think it could," she mused. "If we both put in effort."

Draco grinned sheepishly, and she couldn't help but grin back. "Well, I guess we're getting married."


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is just an author's note.**

**Sorry, guys! I've been so busy I haven't been able to get on my lovely Toshiba in forever! I haven't given up on the story yet, just so you know.**

**If you guys like, I'll try to update tomorrow with an actual chapter. If you guys don't leave me a review, I won't be motivated to post another chapter.**

**Peace out, mah lovely readers :3 **


	7. Chapter 7

**Here you go, guys! As promised. I hope you guys enjoy and leave me a review that will keep me writing :)**

* * *

Hermione and Narcissa moved around the table full of food, an enchanted pad and pen following them to take notes on what they liked and wanted for the wedding. Though Hermione was the bride-to-be, Narcissa insisted upon checking and rechecking everything herself, while dragging Hermione along with her. As pushy as the older woman was, however, Hermione liked and respected her.

"I adored that last dish; didn't you, Hermione?" Narcissa enthused, glancing at her sideways. Hermione shoved aside her nausea and floundered around in her head, trying to remember what exactly the last dish was.

She nodded vigorously anyway. "Yes, of course."

Hermione's feet were horribly sore from walking around in high heels for nearly three hours straight, looking through dresses, decorations, foods, and much more. Her mind was reeling. What she really wanted now, was a break and a rest.

"Say, Narcissa," Hermione said casually. "I could have sworn I heard there was going to be rain on the day of the wedding. Do we have tents, just in case?"

Narcissa's eyes widened. "Oh, no! I'll go order them right away! I'll recheck for the flowers as well. Don't worry, dear. No one fails the Malfoy name!" And the blonde woman waltzed out the door at lightning speed.

With a grateful sigh, Hermione collapsed onto the nearest chair, all but ripping her heels off. She groaned in relief.

Like it had many times before, her engagement ring caught her eyes. Hermione had to admit it was gorgeous. The silver band, exotically engraved, wound around her fingers snugly and perfectly. A beautiful octagon emerald nestled at the center, surrounded by smaller diamonds. Typically, green wasn't her color; but she could see why Draco chose it for her. It suited her now.

"Having fun?"

She immediately jerked upright, whirling around to face her now-amused fiancé. "Merlin, Malfoy! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

He grinned sideways at her. "Not my fault. I'm just naturally sneaky."

"Prat," she huffed, pulling down her black skirt.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco eyed her legs appreciatively. Maybe he wouldn't mind being married to her that much, after all. He sauntered over and grabbed a grape from the table, popping it into his mouth and sitting across from her.

"I don't see why it's me who has to choose the food, the decorations, the attire," she grouched at him.

"I'm busy."

"With what?" she demanded.

His smirk widened, and he crossed his legs. "Stuff."

"You're impossible," she sighed, flopping back in her chair. "I never knew how hard it was to plan a wedding. Not only that, but the most powerful and wealthy wizarding families are going to attend. All of whom I have never met."

"Most of them are just going to please their wives. They won't care if you act prim and proper or if you don't," Draco assured her. "It'll be fine."

"That does make me feel a bit better," she admitted. She was glad he came to talk to her; it took her mind off things.

"And here comes mum," he muttered. "See you at the altar, Granger." And he was gone before Narcissa could stop him and make him help.

Hermione giggled quietly. Soon enough, he wouldn't be able to call her that again.

…

"No! No! No!" Narcissa screamed at the poor maid tying the back of Hermione's corset. "You've tied it all wrong! Now you must start over! If you make us late to her wedding, you will never work again!"

The girl flinched and nodded, hurriedly undoing the strings to start over. Hermione gasped, finally able to breath properly again.

It had been like this since the crack of dawn when Narcissa had first woken her, whisking her away into the preparation room and started doing her hair, makeup, nails, and every surface of her body. She had received a Brazilian waxing already, and her hair was in a lovely French twist. Even as the maid struggled with her corset, other maids and elves worked on her face, scolding her whenever she grimaced or jerked.

And though it couldn't have been later than four thirty in the morning when Narcissa woke her, the woman was already dressed in her wedding attire, not a hair out of place. Maybe it was a Malfoy thing.

When the poor girl successfully tied the blasted thing, they slipped her dress on. Hermione didn't even have the chance to look at herself in the mirror for more than a second before they were ushering her to a set of double doors.

"It's time," Narcissa whispered to her. Hermione realized then that she was glad that the blonde woman was about to be her mother-in-law. If someone other than her mother prepared her for today, she was happy that it was Narcissa. "You look beautiful, dear!"

She was dimly aware of the music starting on the other side of the doors when they opened, and she stepped outside.

Later she would never know how she had managed to walk forward without stumbling or falling. All eyes were on her; there were over a hundred guests, but Hermione kept her gaze forward, locking on one man.

There Draco stood at the end of the aisle, head held high and his blonde hair sleeked back for the occasion. He wore a traditional yet elegant set of black robes. His stormy blue eyes met hers for a brief second, then his lips twitched and a stunning awed smile graced his handsome face.

She had never felt more beautiful.

Then she made it to the end, and he took her hand in his. Everything seemed to move fast then, and Hermione didn't pay any attention to anything other than the man before her that she was to spend the rest of her life with.

Finally, Draco said the two binding words. "I do."

He didn't sound sarcastic or snarky for once.

Next it was her turn. "I do," she repeated, cursing herself for her voice sounding shaky and unsure.

And the dreaded words. "You may kiss the bride."

Before she could panic or refuse, she forced herself to lean forward and close her eyes. Draco closed the distance between them quickly and touched his lips to hers, softly and gently.

An electric shock went through her and she shivered, leaning into him all the more before Draco pulled away and tucked is arm around her waist, smiling at the crowd. Hermione almost pouted, but grudgingly turned to the guests as well with her own smile.

The crowd clapped and cheered, getting to their feet as Draco led Hermione back down the aisle, now as man and wife. They were one and together, now. Her heart was still going wild.

Draco opened the Limo door for her, helping her inside before sliding in next to her. He glanced at her nervously, but she was staring at her hands.

"So, you're my wife now, huh?" he managed, cursing himself at his choice of words.

"Y-yea," she mumbled, her breath coming in short pants.

"Are you alright?"

She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Oh no.

"Hermione!" Draco shouted, gripping her by the arms.

She dimly wondered why the Limo was spinning, becoming more and more blurry every second.

_I've ruined my wedding!_ Was the last thing her mind screamed at her before everything went black and she collapsed in her new husband's arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the wait, guys! I've just had other things on my mind. I've been working with the local community theater in one of the lead parts, so I've been busy.**

**I've decided that I'm going to do something different: some Harry Potter character Q and A.**

**You guys leave a question for one of the characters in the story, and in the next authors note, they'll answer.**

**I hope you guys like it, and ask a lot of good questions!**

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When she opened her eyes again, she was staring up at the darkening sky. She was aware that she was in motion, not only that but she was being carried.

A quick glance up graced her with the sight of her new husband's trademark white-gold hair.

Draco was carrying her.

When she lifted her head, Draco must have noticed, because he looked down at her and met her gaze. He smiled nervously. "Hey, you're awake."

"No shit," she groaned, tightening her arms around his neck. "What happened?"

He walked up a few steps, jostling her a little bit as he did. A roof came overhead, alerting her that they were about to go inside. "You passed out on me in the Limo," he explained, shifting her so he could knock on the door. "I opened your dress on instinct, and I pulled your corset off. As soon as I did, you started breathing again."

The door opened, revealing Sipsy. "Oh! Hello Master Draco, Madam Hermione. Sipsy will alert Master Lucius!" and with a snap, the little elf was gone. Draco sighed, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

"Thank you," she whispered, shocked and slightly touched by his actions. "I think I can walk now."

"Well, the carrying over the threshold is part of my job description," he joked, carefully setting her down on her feet.

As her feet touched the floor, she realized that Draco had taken off her heels as well.

And just then, Narcissa burst into the room, followed by a frazzled looking Lucius.

"Hermione, Dear! Are you alright? Didn't hit anything? Shall I curse the maker of that corset?"

Hermione almost laughed at her new mother-in-law and her incredibly bossy demeanor, but managed to stifle it. "I'm alright, Cissa," she assured her. "Just a bit tired."

"Of course!" Narcissa agreed. "Such a hectic day! Draco, what are you doing? Put her to bed at once!"

Draco sighed again. "Okay, okay, mother. This way, Hermione."

Hermione followed him through a couple rooms and up a staircase, right down the hall from her old room. He opened the door for her and let her inside.

It was lovely, she had to admit. The walls were a Slytherin green, as were most of the items in the room. The large four-poster bed's canopy was silver, along with the wardrobe.

"I like it," she said in surprise.

"Me, too," he murmured. "It took me a while to get it like this."

Then without a warning, he started to take his clothes off.

He started with the jacket, then his vest, followed by his shoes, socks, shirt, and trousers. Hermione watched, mesmerized, until he smirked over at her.

"You know, if you keep staring, you might start grabbing and touching. So I vote you keep staring."

Hermione jerked her eyes away with a huff. "Prat! If you're going to be that way, I'll stop looking! And must you do that, so… out in the open?"

Draco just grinned wider. "We're in our bedroom. Hardly qualifies as 'in the open', don't you think?"

With another angry huff, she turned away. "I'm changing in the bathroom."

When she came out again in her tank top and shorts pajamas, he was lying in bed, arms supporting his head. Still bare-chested.

With flushed cheeks, she climbed in next to him, turning out the last of the lights and laying her wand on the nightstand.

And though she'd tried not to think about it, her thoughts drifted back to her time with Harry and Ron. It was such a short time ago, and yet so much had changed…

She shook her head and laid back into the pillows, closing her eyes. The past was in the past. It was time to move on with her new life… and with Draco.


	9. Chapter 9

**I was disappointed in the lack of questions! Come on, guys! **

**Thank you to shaymars, who asked Draco and Hermione if they sealed the deal on their wedding night.**

**Draco: Nah, she's too prudish.**

**Hermione: No! Nothing happened! *blushes fiercely*.**

**Please ask more questions! They keep me happy, and writing!**

* * *

"What's happened to her?"

Harry's question caught Ron by surprise and he looked up from the _Daily Profit_ to meet his best friend's gaze. "I dunno, Harry. Honest. It just says that they got married yesterday. There's a picture, too." He showed Harry.

"I know, Ron!" Harry snapped, shoving the picture of a happy Hermione on Draco sodding Malfoy's arm. Hell, now _she _was a Malfoy! "Why would Malfoy do this? Why would Voldemort let him? It's a trick, it has to be."

Ron nodded in understanding, folding the paper and setting it aside. "I know, mate. This is the craziest thing I've ever seen in the _Profit, _and because of Rita Skeeter I've seen a lot of crazy stuff."

Harry paced from one side of the small room at 12 Grimmauld Place to the other, taking off his glasses to rub his face. "Ron, we've got to do something. We've got to save her, if this is the real Hermione."

Ron sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I know you want to save her, but honestly, I don't think we can if she's with Malfoy."

Harry's emerald eyes flashed fire. "I. Don't. Care."

Ron cringed, but didn't argue further.

…

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, savoring the blissful moment of peace in the morning that came just before getting up. Something was different this time though. She was wrapped around something warm and smooth.

She shut her eyes and hummed in contentment, snuggling into the heat source under her cheek.

At least, until the heat source wrapped his arms around her tighter and hummed back.

It was _Malfoy!_

She immediately stiffened, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but he held her tighter, his brow creasing in irritation. After a few moments he opened his eyes, blinked, and looked down at her.

"Hi," she whispered, almost shyly. Why, she had no idea. The whole thing was just completely embarrassing.

"Hi," he chuckled, releasing her and sitting up.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I woke up like that. I didn't mean-"

"Hush," he silenced her, placing a finger to her lips. "It's fine. What man wouldn't want to wake up with his wife on top of him?" He leered.

She flushed scarlet and threw a pillow at him, which he easily blocked with one arm. "Oh, shut up! What are we doing today, anyhow?"

Draco grinned down at her, shrugging. "I dunno. Stuff."

She frowned at him, crossing her arms. "Well, that's very helpful."

"I know," he replied cheerily, sliding out of bed and stretching. Hermione's eyes were immediately drawn to the strong muscles of Draco's pale back as he pulled his arms over his head.

Of course that was when he decided to look back at her. He clucked his tongue at her, smirking. "Why, Mrs. Malfoy, are you… ogling me?"

"No!"

His smirk widened. "Whatever you say." He trudged over to his dresser.

Hermione scowled, retreating into the bathroom once again to change.

She'd chosen a green button-down blouse and black pants today, pulling her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. When she left the bathroom she wasn't expecting Draco to still be there, now wearing a black t-shirt and jeans.

"I'm surprised you're still here," she muttered grumpily. "You sounded so busy earlier, with all that… _stuff."_

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't comment. He simply turned and left the room.

Hermione only paused a second before going after him. "Hey, Malfoy!"

"Just FYI," he drawled over his shoulder. "You're a Malfoy now, too."

"Thanks for reminding me!" she snapped, grabbing his shoulder to turn him around.

"Why are you in such a bad mood anyway?"

"You accused me of something I didn't do!" she fumed. "That's why!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, taking a small step toward her. "I didn't care that you were looking. I look too," he said casually. Then his voice dropped about half an octave, "Like right now."

Before she could respond, she was pinned against the wall, her head trapped between Draco's hands and his lips crashed into hers.

Her lips parted when she gasped, and he wasted no time in tasting her, plunging his tongue into her mouth. He was touching her now, too. His arms wound tightly around her waist, melding his body to hers.

He was touching her in all the right ways.

She returned the kiss almost instantly, fingers going into his slivery, baby-soft hair. Her teeth grazed his lower lip as she sucked it into her mouth aggressively.

His low, rumbling growl sent pleasant shivers down her spine and he pulled back abruptly, his lips trailing a path of fire down to her collarbone.

She gasped again, only faintly aware of the fact that she'd brought a leg around his waist. "Draco," she moaned breathily, leaning her head back to give him better access.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!"

Draco's head jerked away from her throat, embarrassed that his father had caught him in this state, slowly disentangled himself from Hermione (who was now flushed beet red).

"Yes father, what is it?" he ground out.

"The Dark Lord has called a meeting!" Lucius hissed. "Didn't you feel the mark?"

Draco half-smiled over at Hermione. "I was a bit… preoccupied."

Lucius scowled at his son. "Well, hurry up. Our Lord does not like to be kept waiting."


End file.
